


Dos Cuentos

by Reflorecera



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Gen, Love Story, Midquel, Prequel, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reflorecera/pseuds/Reflorecera
Summary: Two timelines, two places, two people, one romance.A story telling the history of Imelda and Héctor, how the pair met in life and how they fell in love, their courtship in Santa Cecilia,  intertwined with the tale of their reunion in the Land of the Dead, as their memories of falling in love in the first place helps start their love affair all over again.





	Dos Cuentos

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, this is a fic that's going to have two timelines. Some chapters will be telling the story of their meeting, dating, falling in love, and some will be following the story of the time between the night of the Sunrise Spectacular and the next Día de Muertos. I am half Mexican and do speak Spanish, but if I start writing too much Spanish here, I end up writing all in Spanish and I am aware a lot of Coco fandom don't speak Spanish and even have English as a second language. So I will be keeping the language to a simple movie-level Spanglish which should hopefully make it easily understandable for everyone, regardless of their first language! Enjoy!

The sun was blazing down despite the fact it was still early in the morning and Imelda could instantly sense it was going to be one of the extremely hot days, days where you didn't want to work, days where you longed for the shade and a cool drink and to do nothing but lay down and let the day pass you by. But instead of being able to spend the day doing nothing in the shade, responsibilities and study and duties awaited her. A large part of Imelda knew to be grateful for the studies she was able to have, that the nuns were schooling in her numbers as well as in writing, and most days she thrived on it, but today...today it was too hot and something was itching in her for something else.

While she copied numbers and read words, her large, light brown eyes kept wandering to the window, looking out to where the slightest breeze kissed her cheek, and she could hear the slightest trill of music coming from the cantina. Musicós preparing for the performance she knew was happening that night, a competition, a competition for singers and músicos and dancers, a competition she had begged her Mamá that she might go. She had finally agreed, on the condition that she bring her little hermanos along with her. A dozen other hermanas would have groaned at the condition, but Imelda never complained of time with her familia. Her own Papá might have placed no value on them, left for another woman, other hijos he preferred, but Imelda knew what was important and she valued her familia above everything. Time with her hermanos was not a hard condition to adhere to....even if they could be troublesome.

Perhaps that was why she couldn't focus on her schoolwork or on her duties at home, or the responsibilities that awaited her, all because of tonight. The night of music and singing and dancing. Imelda couldn't play any instruments, but she loved to listen. And she could sing and she could dance. At ten years old, it was already clear she had a talent for both; her singing voice was warm and her dancing steps were quick.

She was scolded by Sister Henriqua for not paying attention and for not doing her numbers correctly, something which Imelda _never_ failed at, and that told the young girl what she already knew; today was not a day for work. She was eager, restless, unsettled. She needed to be out, she needed to get ready for tonight, it filled her heart, her soul, her mind.

 

She felt a little better once she was free from studies and she had an hour before she would be needed at home. Her feet took her towards the plaza, where the competition would be held, her body leading her without her mind even consciously choosing it, and she saw exactly what she wanted to see. Músicos, ones that were choosing to practise in the sun rather than in the shade of the cantina, dancers practising on the stones, singers humming together.

Imelda walked between them all, looking up at their faces, trying to see if they had the same excitement she felt. But as she reached the band stand she saw a large group of niños, all varied in ages, but all relatively close to her own age regardless. They were all fighting over something she couldn't see past their taller frames. It was probably something ridiculous as it seemed to her that all niños fought over ridiculous things. Niños, in general, were ridiculous. Even her own hermanos, though she loved them, were silly. Imelda rolled her eyes and walked on to things that were more interesting-- until she heard the strum of a guitarra.

 

Imelda stopped.

 

“Ey, ey, hands off!” A boy's voice called out, a joking tone to his words. “This is for a true músico, amigos”

 

“And that's you, is it?”

 

“Well, it's certainly not you, Franco”

 

“Well, if you're such a músico, Héctor, why don't you prove it?”

 

Imelda's curiosity got the better of her and she made her way closer to the group, trying to see this Héctor who claimed to be a músico. When she finally managed to slip her way through the fence of niños, her eyes landed on a lanky looking boy, thin as a twig, more nose and ears than face. In his hands was a battered looking guitar, dirty and discarded, Imelda would be surprised to find it was even in tune.

 

The boy struck a chord and proved her right. The sound was awful and the entire group laughed loudly.

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Héctor begged, before he began attempting to tune it, “Wait, wait....” Eventually he seemed satisfied. “Ah-ha! Now, amigos, you will hear something fantastic!” He took a deep breath and prepared to play--

 

“Oh no, muchacho,” A large hand, a grown-up's hand, appeared and snatched the guitarra from the boy. “You're not playing that's Diego's. Get your dirty hands off it”

 

“But I just tuned it! It sounded like el pedo de un burro muerto!”

 

Héctor's retort earned him a smack around the head. “No taking guitarras. Ladrón”

 

“Ey” He pointed angrily at the back of the retreating hombre, “I am not a ladrón” Well, sometimes he thieved, but it was usually food. He kicked the dust in anger, hands in the pockets of his torn trousers, trying to ignore the sniggers of the crowd as they dispersed. “I can play it better than any Diego”

 

“Can you?” Imelda asked and Héctor jumped a mile in the air when he realised someone was still watching him and that it was a chica.

 

“Argh! You're a girl” And one that was muy bonita. She was dressed in a simple white dress with little brown sandalias, and a purple shawl about her shoulders to protect her from the sun. Her dark hair was braided with a small flower in it. He'd never seen anyone so bonita. But then most of his time was spent in the company of chicos not chicas.

 

“Sí, soy un chica,” Imelda rolled her eyes, “So can you?”

 

“¿Qué?”

 

“Can you play the guitarra?”

 

“Oh! I---I---Oh, well, I've only ever played for myself, sometimes, when I can get hold of a guitarra, but....sí” He grinned shyly at her.

 

“You're not lying?” Imelda squinted at him suspiciously.

 

“What? No, no, no! I really can play! I could show you if” He looked in the direction his guitarra had been taken, “if someone would learn to share!”

 

“Did you steal his guitar?”

 

“Ey.....borrowed” He grinned at an attempt to winning. It did not win over Imelda. She rolled her eyes at him, deciding if he could steal, then he could definitely be lying about everything else, and turned away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Ey, ey...wait, wait,” He hurried to catch up with her, “I'm Héctor”

 

“Héctor what?”

 

“Just Héctor”

 

“Are you lying again?” Imelda was still walking as she demanded answers of him.

 

“No. It's just Héctor” The sadness in his voice made Imelda realise what he meant by that. She stopped walking and looked at him steadily.

 

“You're from the orphanage”

 

Héctor nodded, shrugging a little, effecting that he didn't care though Imelda could see he clearly did.

 

“I thought the orphanage didn't allow you out alone”

 

“They don't allow us much of anything” Héctor admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a very long neck just like the rest of him. He was probably younger than her, she decided, but he was already taller.

 

“So you have broken rules, sneaked out, stolen a guitarra--”

 

“Borrowed!”

 

Imelda folded her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow at him sceptically. “Are you always such a criminal?”

 

“Criminal?” Héctor put a hand to his chest, offended, “¡La idea!”

 

Imelda tried her hardest not to smile, but it pulled at her lips regardless. She resolved to roll her eyes again and carry on walking, though the fact he was being raised at that awful place, no familia, no one to care for him, truly care for him, made her feel a little more lenient, that she might give him a little more patience. She couldn't imagine anything worse than being raised at that place, to not have a familia. Anyone suffering that deserved a little lenience.

 

“So.....do I get your name?” Héctor asked, rushing forward so he was in front of her, walking backwards. He really was all legs.

 

“Imelda Rivera” She answered. “You are going to trip”

 

“I am not. I--” Héctor tripped, stumbled and caught himself mere moments before he fell entirely. He smiled in embarrassment. Imelda gave him a superior look in reply. “I've never seen you before”

 

“I imagine we walk very different paths”

 

“But you like music”

 

“Sí”

 

“So do I”

 

“Well, I guessed you didn't steal the guitarra because you hated it”

 

“Borrowed! Borrowed! It wasn't like I was going to _keep_ it! I'd give it back!” Héctor gave an exaggerated sigh of frustration before shaking it off and focusing on Imelda again. She really was bonita, he couldn't take his eyes off her _and_ she liked music. She wouldn't have asked him if he played if she didn't. “I'm going to play tonight, ¿sabes? At the competition. That's why I left today; the prize is dinero o guitarra. Quiero la guitarra” The money would be nice too, but if it came between the two....well, the orphanage would take the money for his 'keep', but the guitarra...they might let him keep that.

 

“How are you going to win if you don't have a guitarra to play?” Imelda asked, finally coming to a stop at her favourite place to sit and settling down upon the little pile of stones near the well.

 

“I can sing and I can dance” Héctor reasoned. He would have more of a chance to win if he could play, but he could still win on his other talents...and his charm. He had charmed his way out of things many times, so might as well charm his way into getting something instead.

 

“Dance?” Imelda's eyes lit up, “Show me”

 

“¿Qué?”

 

“Show me your baile” Imelda elaborated, grinning up at him. She thought he was going to make his excuses and run away, reveal himself to be a boaster and a liar, but to her surprise, he took a breath and, without a single further comment, began to dance, his bare feet tapping away on the floor, turning and twisting this way and that, all to a beat he could hear in his head, a song playing in his cabeza. That is until the sound of practicising mariachis that had distracted Imelda earlier on, trinkled to their ears, and he began to dance to _their_ beat instead.

 

He really could dance. And if he was as honest about playing as he was about dancing, Imelda was certain he could have done that guitarra justice. She was thinking precisely this when he reached forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her up to dance with him. She almost resisted, she didn't play with chicos unless they were hermanos, but the music and Héctor's dancing rhythm drew her in and she found herself giving herself to the dance, swinging her skirt around, her shoes tapping loudly, mindful of Héctor's bare feet, laughing as she twisted around with him, their made-up dance matching the faint music perfectly.

 

Imelda could hear herself laughing to her great surprise, hardly expecting this tall orphan boy who stole guitarras to have entertained her so easily and so quickly. Maybe it was the day, the heat, the restlessness she had felt all day, or quizás it was the music, the promise of more tonight, it was just a day filled with restlessness and excitement.

 

“Are you coming to the competition tonight?” Héctor asked, spinning around with her, practically bouncing as they twirled.

 

“Sí, Mamá says I can”

 

“And your Papá”

 

Imelda stopped dancing abruptly, her expression souring. “Mi Padre left. Years ago. We don't talk about him”

 

Imelda's voice told Héctor this was not to be argued with. Actually, she struck him as a niña that was _never_ to be argued with if you knew what was best for you.

 

“Lo siento;” He said quietly, but Imelda shrugged it off as if the whole thing meant nothing.

 

“Mis hermanos were only babies. They don't even remember him. He doesn't deserve to be remembered” Imelda found she was no longer in the mood to dance. She sat back down on the stones.

 

Héctor watched her silently, hating that she was sad. Or angry. Or both. He had only just met this Imelda Rivera but already he felt determined for her to be happy. She was so bonita and so interesante and so......Héctor didn't know the word, but he decided right there and then that he liked her. He wished he had a few pesos so he could buy her something....like a flower or a pan dulce. Something to take that look off her face and make her smile again.

 

He sat down on the floor in the dust and looked up at her thoughtfully, wondering what he could say to make her feel pretty. “Eres muy bonita”

 

“What?” Imelda looked at him surprise and he immediately blushed bright red. That hadn't been what he had intended to say.

 

“I—ah---you erm--” He swallowed, looking into his lap in embarrassment, “Bonita. You. I like your flower in your hair”

 

“Oh.....gracias”

 

“I wish I could buy you more flowers”

 

Now Imelda was even more surprised than before. She had met this niño alto not more than ten minutes ago and already he was saying she was pretty and wanting to buy her flowers. It was...unbelievable. “You're very forward. But I don't know what else I should expect from a ladrón”

 

He scowled at her, “I'm not a ladrón”

 

“All orphans are”

 

Héctor felt as if he had been punched in the heart.

 

“All orphans steal because everything is stolen from them” Imelda finished, “Mamá says you wouldn't have anything at all if you didn´t”

 

The punch began to lessen. “I...” Héctor shrugged, “it's usually just comida. I'm always hungry”

 

“You look it. I've never seen a boy as tall as you be so thin”

 

“Are you always so honest?”

 

“Usually” Imelda replied with a smile. A smile Héctor was delighted to see and he gave her one of his own in return. Goofy and and broad, it was like the rest of him; too big for his face. It was oddly endearing though.

“Will you watch me perform tonight, señorita?” He asked, shuffling forward on the floor so he was sat directly at her feet.

 

“Well, I said I was going to be there,” Imelda answered, looking at him as if he was loco. He couldn't have possible already forgotten that she had said she was going. She certainly hadn't. Until she had come across the strange, matchstick boy called Héctor, she had thought of little else but the night of music and dancing. Even the potential threat of her hermanos getting up to mischief couldn't dampen her spirit.

 

“Lo sé, lo sé,” Héctor nodded eagerly, “But will you watch _me_? When I perform in the competition. Will you cheer me on?”

 

“Why do you want me to? Why does it matter whether I cheer you or not?” Imelda challenged, still looking at him as though he was loco. It was a look Héctor was very used to seeing.

 

“Porque....I want you to like what I do”

 

“¿Por qué?” She asked, raising one eyebrow at him now. It almost made him stop what he was going to say, to change his mind and talk about something else.

 

“Porque....I like you”

 

“You only just met me,”

 

“Am I not allowed to like you right away?”

 

“Most people don't,” Imelda answered honestly, “Niños says I'm bossy and adultos say I'm...abrasiva” And that if she did not learn to be softer, if she didn't learn to sit quietly, if she didn't learn to bow her head and be demure then she would be a solterona all her life. Imelda had decided she would rather be a solterona than bow her head demurely to anyone.

 

“I say you're interesante. And I want you to hear me perform”

 

“I told you I'll be there”

 

“That's not the same”

 

“You're very persistent”

 

“No,” He shook his head, “Abrasivo”

 

Imelda laughed despite herself, and covered her mouth quickly with her hand so he wouldn't think she thought him _too_ funny. Sister María told her that chicos got the 'wrong idea' all too easily and now that she was ten years old, she was going to have to start being more careful.

 

“Bien,” She agreed, “I will listen to you. I will wait for your performance. Con mis hermanos”

 

“¿Tus hermanos?”

 

Imelda nodded, “They are only six. Mamá said I could go to the plaza tonight if I took them with me”

 

“Ah,” Héctor nodded in understand and then frowned, “They are both six?”

 

“Son gemelos” She explained and the boy's eyebrows flew up into his hairline. “They are not too troublesome” She hurried to assure, but Héctor seemed unconvinced.

 

“Bien.....”

 

“Imelda!” Her Mother's voice called out in the distance, reaching the pair of children where they sat together.

 

“Ay, ese es mi Mamá” Imelda explained, jumping up. “I have to go. Hasta esta noche”

 

“Perhaps I will even find a guitarra!” He called after her as she dashed home.

 

“Do _not_ steal one, ladrón!” She called back, still running and Héctor watched her until she was completely out of sight.

 

She was perfecta.

 

* * *

 

Imelda found herself thinking about the niño called Héctor throughout all of her chores. It was someone her own age who seemed to love música as much as she did, someone with the same energy for it, the same passion. He was so odd though...but maybe that came from being an orphan. Imelda would hate to have no familia and to be raised in one of those places. But he looked odd too. Maybe he would grow into his features, but he was too tall, too thin, his ears were too big, so was his nose, and his grin was all crooked.

 

Maybe that was why she was thinking about him so much. His oddness was hard to forget. She also found herself eager to see him perform _and_ to see if he would find a guitarra somehow. It would be nice to find out if he was being honest or not about his talent for playing.

 

Yet, when she arrived in the plaza later on with a brother on each hand, she couldn't see Héctor in the crowds and when her hermanos asked her who she was looking for, she told them no one, before continuing to look, but she couldn't spot him anywhere. She didn't see him throughout the entire gathering of the crowd and when the competition began she couldn't see him there either. And as each competitor got on stage, it became more and more likely that Héctor wasn't there at all. Imelda found herself looking so determinedly for him that she forgot to dance along with any of the songs.

 

The competition came and went and still no Héctor. After all his begging, all his convincing and pleading and asking, he hadn't even shown up. Imelda's jaw set in a severe line and decided he was exactly the sort of lying ladrón she had thought he was in the first place. He probably couldn't play a guitarra to save his life. And told more lies than truths.

 

As she walked her hermanos back home once the night was over, Imelda concluded that she had not enjoyed herself and that despite what the older women in Santa Cecilia, and even her own Mamá, told her, she was certainly not going to grow up to have a interest in chicos. They were all liars and a waste of time and energy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
